Lies Under Touches
by arohalove
Summary: One Shot. Drabble. Post X3. There's more to Rogues cure than she knows yet. Slight WR


Notes: Just felt in the mood for rambling and this is the result. This drabble comes from a discussion of Rogue with my mom who mentioned it would be cool if with Rogue's cure there was a residual touch that she hasn't figured out yet….not telepathy but something like intense intuition. Or you could see it as her powers slowly coming back...whichever. I haven't figured it out myself.

Disclaimer: I do not own X-Men.

Lies Under Touches

xxx

Brush of lips, cool and smooth against her own. Pressure, movement, moisture. This is what it was like. To kiss. To feel another's essence combined so intimately with your own. To know one by more than just glance, or new sensed touch, or even thought, but by whole being. A physical connection that allows one to delve into the core of another's psyche from extreme pleasure rather than pain.

Break apart.

'Wow.' He whispers, tugging at her bare fingers, twirling his own between them.

His hands are warm. She can feel a small pulse racing through the tips of his fingers. The rhythm, even but strong, moves her heart to imitate its beat. And now she's nervous too.

'What's wrong?' she inquires, confused by this sensation.

Cool smile, inviting with its chill. 'Nothing. Everything's right.'

'You-' stroking his palm, sliding her finger up his toned forearm. The bond of touch is more severe than she could have ever imagined. And she's finding his ice blue eyes, curiously searching for an answer to this frigid feeling that rises inside her chest. Its connected with a name, tickling at her, whispering. 'Where's Kitty?'

'Kitty? Probably crashed by now.' He tucks his arms around her, lifting her from the floor so that her shirt is riding up her back. She giggles. The nervous tension has melted. 'I'm glad you came back Rogue.'

Brush of lips, cool and smooth against her own. Pressure, movement, moisture, but wrapped within it is a tingle and a name that's glacial on her skin.

xxx

'You're not disappointed are you?'

The weather goddess has large brown eyes, deeper than any she has ever known before. Variation of expression rivaled only by one. The depths shimmer under the overhead sun and for the moment are calm.

'Of course not.' Her dark hand covers her own pale one which rests on the bench. The palm is hot and moist from the sun, the pressure of it uncomfortable on the back of her hand. But she doesn't pull away. 'I'm proud of you. For making your own decision. And I'm glad that you're back in a safe place, where you belong and where you're always welcome.'

The deep, serene eyes gaze over a smile that is warm and kind. The hold tightens.

Pressure.

Smooth graze of skin as the woman rubs a thumb over her small knuckles. It's a careful gesture and suddenly something guarded slams down inside her and she searches the calm eyes again with suspicion. There's focus to the feeling though it doesn't strike at her. It trickles down the base of her spine, like a single drop of rain and the gentle eyes flash something that's illuminating for both of them.

Is it pity? Is it fear? Is it displeasure?

'Thanks. Its good to know that.'

xxx

Night. A cool breeze rushes through the window, rustles through her night gown. It raises goose bumps on her arms so that she's rubbing at them and tip toeing toward the open window where the white curtains flap and twist under the wind. She pulls the window closed but the latch is stiff under her hands.

'Let me try it.'

The large hand almost encloses over her own. She pulls away and he has the latch secured in one firm push. Seeing him again there's contentment. A friend whose honesty she can depend on is standing almost against her. She breathes in the heavy odor of smoke woven into his cotton shirt and resists the urge to close her eyes because she's over those feelings now.

'Thanks.'

'So you're back' Sincere smile under a hazel gaze that sweeps over her. There's a scent on his breath. Its clouded by cigar smoke but she can smell it. Tangy. Bitter.

'So are you.'

'Storm said…' Warmth on her skin and she glances down to see the back of his fingers brushing against her bare arm. 'you can touch.'

The two fingers softly sliding against her rest upon her wrist. Her pulsing heart quickens within. There's a fleeting rush, like wind stirring inside and she senses something foreign, something she has never known that is intensely intimate and genuine. He lets his fingers fall.

'So it seems.' She whispers with uncertain eyes.

'You happy?'

'Yeah…yeah I am. Thanks for the advice.'

A raised brow, a little mocking, a little embarrassed, a little uncertain, addresses her.

'Just trying to be a friend.'

She reaches for his arm, thanking him with more than just words, enjoying the comfort he always brings with him, knowing acceptance is what she'll find when she searches his eyes.

His bicep is tight under her hand. She can feel the trace of metal that rides beneath the skin under the tips of her fingers. Sinewy muscles tense when she runs her thumb against them and there is a sudden trace of more. The suggestion of clandestine desire, concentrated and profound causes her heart to race again. Its falling inside her own chest, churning at her stomach nervously, almost guiltily with its furtiveness. And there's a name, one that remains unspoken on his lips but whispers against her own. Marie.

She catches his eyes with a snap of her head. Surely she's run away with herself again? Holding his eyes that are warm and friendly, she sees it hiding beneath his half smile. And suddenly the air is not heavy with cigar smoke but filled with a savory lust.

She drops her hand and stammers quietly with calm, astonished eyes, 'You-You're the best I have Logan.'

'You too, Kid.'


End file.
